Bohun drew himself up. "Then starve," he told her; and walked out of the shop. I gaped after his retreating figure. It seemed impossible, incredible, that he should have taken such an answer without yielding to a fit of insensate passion. And I was still marvelling when I heard Graham saying in a broken voice: "Betty! Betty, my little girl!" Then I, too, went away, with a mist before my eyes to dim the golden grace of June. VI INTRODUCTION TO MISS CARPENTER On my way back from the Flats I discovered Duncan sitting on the wall of the bridge, moodily donating pebbles to the water. His attitude suggested preoccupation with unhappy reflections, a humour from which the sound of my footsteps roused him. He looked up and caught my eye with an uncertain nod, as though he half recognised me--presumably having casually noticed me at the Bigelow House the previous evening. "Good-morning," said I cheerfully, with a slight break in my stride intended craftily to convey the impression that I was not altogether averse to a pause for gossip. He said "Good-morning," sombrely. "A pleasant day," I observed spontaneously, stopping. "Yes," he agreed. "By the way, have you a match about you?" I searched my pockets, found a box and handed it over. "I've been perishing for a ..." He slid his fingers into a waistcoat pocket, as one who should seek a cigarette-case; but the hand came forth empty. He bit his remark off abruptly, with a blank look in his eyes which was promptly succeeded by an expression of deepest chagrin. He got up and with a little bow returned the box. "I forgot," he said, apologetic. "I'm afraid I can't help you out," said I. "Oh, that's all right. I'd just forgotten that I don't smoke." I pretended not to notice his disconcertion. "You're to be congratulated; it's a shameful waste of time and money." "A filthy habit," said he warmly. "Indeed, yes," I chanted, finding my pipe and tobacco pouch. He caught my twinkle as I filled and lighted, and looked away, the shadow of a smile lurking beneath his small, closely clipped moustache. "I beg your pardon," he said a moment later, regarding me with more interest, "but--do you live here?" "Certainly. Why?" "I was sure of it," he replied soberly. "But don't you feel a bit lonesome, sometimes?" "Not in the least. Radville's one of the most interesting places on this side of the footstool." He sighed. "Indeed," I insisted, "you won't feel any more lonely after you've lived here a while, than I do now, Mr. Duncan." He opened his eyes at my acquaintance with his name, but jerked his head at me comprehendingly. "To be sure," he said. "You would know. But I'm only beginning to realise what it feels like to be a marked man." "I hear you intend to make Radville your permanent residence, Mr. Duncan?" "It's part of the system," he said obscurely. "It may prove a life sentence." "Don't you think you'll like it here?"